


a heart the size of the world

by thewalrus_said



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 1420-1482 S.R., Asexual Character, F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, The MCD is Rosie but she lives a long and happy life before then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: Rosie and Sam, and Sam and Frodo, and Rosie and Frodo.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee, Rose Cotton/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 26
Kudos: 44





	a heart the size of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on this despite the MCD; I swear it's as soft as it possibly can be with that tag, and Rosie's life is long and filled with love and happiness before she goes. I would have avoided it if I could, but I couldn't.
> 
> This is my long-held headcanon for how negotiations at Bag End went, up through Frodo's departure, and it finally got so loud I had to write it down. Enjoy!

If there was one thing Rosie Cotton was good at, it was waiting. If she weren’t, she’d never have caught Sam at all, and as it was she nearly missed him, for she had several good prospects in hand by the time he saw fit to come back to the Shire, even with all the badness going on. But come back he did, and together they all set things to rights. Then the waiting passed on to a more acute kind; she could read the look in Sam’s eye, and knew the day would come sooner or later.

Once again he kept her waiting, but this time she knew what for, and as soon as Bag End was up and ready again, he came to her. “Rosie, I’ve got a proposal for you,” he said, and her heart rose in her breast.

“You didn’t hurry, did you?” she teased, and he smiled.

“I’m not a hurrier,” he said. “Never have been. Slow and steady, that’s my way, but I get there in the end.” A queer look came into his eye, and she knew he was thinking about something, something deep and dark from his travels. But it didn’t last, and soon he was focusing on her again. “So I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but I’m here now, and things are in order.”

“So they are.” Rosie settled herself on a tree stump (they were outside, tucked into a turning of New Row) and smoothed her skirts over her legs. “Go on, Sam. Make your proposal.”

He blushed. “Rosie, I’d like to marry you, if you’re willing.” She smiled at him, and he grinned back and went on, “I’ve talked it over with Mr. Frodo, and he had the idea that we should go and live in Bag End with him, so we’d have a home right away. And I’ve got some money set aside for marriage, so that won’t be no fuss. What do you say?”

“I say yes,” Rosie said, and laughed at the happiness on his face. “Yes, Sam, I’ll marry you, happily.”

He took her hand and swept his thumb over it. “I love you, Rosie.”

She forgot herself for a brief second, just long enough to teasingly say, “More than anyone else in the world?” His face fell, and she swallowed and remembered who she was dealing with. “No, Sam, I know. Mr. Frodo.”

“I love you, Rosie,” he said again, looking earnestly at her face. “When I was out there at the end of the world, it was you I was thinking of. But it was him I was with, if you take my meaning.”

“I do,” Rosie said, squeezing his hand. “I do take your meaning.” She searched her heart for a break, some sign of malcontent at the state of things, but she wasn’t surprised not to find any. “Well, Samwise Gamgee, you’ve got a heart the size of the world. And I reckon coming second it in is just about miles better than coming first in anyone else’s.”

“Then you’ll have me?” Sam asked, and her heart broke at the hope in his voice. “Just as I am, and all?”

“Just as you are,” she said. “I’ll have you, Sam, as much of you as I can get.”

“All of me,” he said. “Frodo don’t want that part of me anyway.”

Rosie laughed. She had eyes, and she paid attention, and she saw the way Frodo clung to Sam when neither of them thought anyone was looking. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sam my lad. But we’ll cross that bridge when it comes, and not sooner.” He beamed at her. “Hadn’t you better kiss me now?” she asked, letting her grin out all over her face.

He did, and she let it warm her from the top of her head to her toes.

They married a bare month later, one of a score of weddings in the spring of 1420, all the preparations paid for by a bag of gold Sam produced seemingly out of nowhere. Rosie’s parents saw her to the door of Bag End, and Sam bore her over the threshold with her laughing in his arms.

Frodo met them in the drawing room. “Welcome home,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “I hope you’ll both be very happy here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Rosie said, dipping him a clumsy curtsy. “For opening your home to me as well as Sam.”

He waved a hand. “It’s nothing, Rosie, really. This place is too drafty and big for me alone. If Sam wanted to marry twenty hobbits and move them all in here, I should make them welcome.”

“I shouldn’t,” Rosie said frankly, and Frodo and Sam both laughed. “I reckon the three of us will make a nice start filling up the walls in here.”

“Just so,” Frodo said. “Well, come and have a drink with me, in celebration of the day, and then I’ll let you two alone.” He led them through to the dining room and poured them all hefty portions of something out of a dark decanter. “Wine, from Bree,” he said, handing her a glass.

They drank, and Rosie watched as Sam and Frodo chatted over their drinks. Sam had been glowing all day, radiant with happiness, as Rosie was sure she had been too. Frodo had been by Sam’s side since the morning sun went up, and she’d never seen him smile so much, even before he sold Bag End and they all went out on their journey. He seemed genuinely delighted to see the two of them wed, but at the same time he was listing towards Sam like a sunflower towards the daylight.

Well, there was nothing for it but to see what came of it, and Rosie had no fear that whatever came would overwhelm them. She was stronger with Sam, and so was Frodo, and Sam was stronger for the both of them. They’d be alright.

Sam and Rosie took to married life like fishes to a pond; Rosie’d never been happier in her whole life than she was as Sam’s wife, and Sam walked around with a big dopey smile on his face for months. Just when it started to fade, she got to tell him she was with child, and back it came across his face, and wider.

“We’ll name him Frodo if it’s a he,” Rosie said to Sam as he lay with his hand on her stomach in bed. He beamed up at her and settled his head on her shoulder.

They didn’t share that particular decision with Frodo, but Sam did tell him the news the next day over breakfast. Frodo actually put his fork down and threw his arms about Sam, squeezing him tight before reaching over and grasping one of Rosie’s hands. “It’s the best news,” he said, and all the cares he carried seemed to fall from him in his joy. Sam seemed bewildered by the change and just grinned at him and Rosie both, leaving Rosie to watch their embrace with her own private smile.

The news seemed to make a significant change in Frodo; he was almost giddy for weeks, making preparations to turn one of the rooms near to Sam and Rosie’s into a nursery and commissioning an endless parade of toys for the youngling. They let him, laughing at his delight with each bauble that came in. Frodo also grew more affectionate with Sam, letting an arm fall about his shoulders or link through his elbow even more often than before. With Rosie he kept a respectful distance, but he always had a smile for her, except for those moments just after he realized he was sending Sam a longing look and turned away; then he looked at Rosie almost guiltily, for all she smiled warmly at him nonetheless.

There passed one night in October when Sam came to bed troubled. “It’s Mr. Frodo,” he said to Rosie’s inquisitive eyebrows. “He took a turn earlier, and I’ve just remembered it’s been two years since Weathertop.”

“Weathertop?” Rosie wracked her memory. “That’s... when he was injured?” Sam nodded. “Do you think he’s alright?”

Sam bit his lip. “I’m not sure,” he said. “You know Frodo, he always puts a brave face on things when he thinks someone’s looking at him. I’m afraid he’s worse than he seems.”

“Well, go on and check on him,” Rosie said, pushing him out of the bed with her legs. “I’ll be alright until you’re back, go and make sure he’s okay.” Sam kissed her and went.

He came back three quarters of an hour later, a strange look on his face. “Is Mr. Frodo alright?” Rosie asked, turning the covers down for him.

“Ye-es,” Sam said slowly, climbing into bed. “That is, he didn’t seem pained anymore, and he laughed at me for being worried.” He fell silent, but his eyes were far away.

“But?” Rosie prompted. Sam shook his head slightly. Studying his face, Rosie asked quietly, “Did he kiss you?”

Sam’s eyes snapped to hers. She held his gaze until he sighed and said, “No, but I think it weren’t for lack of wanting to, if you take my meaning.” Rosie took his hand and he squeezed and went on, “I’d never break my vows to you, Rosie my love, but I’ll admit it was a near thing. He seemed to master himself and turned away at the last second anyhow.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Rosie said firmly. “If the moment comes again, you take your kiss, and don’t pay no mind to me.”

_ That _ seemed to shock him. He froze and stared at her until she laughed. “Samwise Gamgee,” she said, leaning forward and kissing his nose, “I knew the state of your heart when I married you, and I wouldn’t’a done it if I weren’t okay with things. If your Frodo wants you back, then I say have him, and have me too. I’m not fussed about it.”

Sam blinked at her. “Thank you,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll... I’ll think about it.”

Sam, she knew, wasn’t a hurrier, and the moment didn’t come again for almost a month. But eventually there came a night when Rosie, gone to bed early with a headache, slipped out of their room for a glass of water and turned a corner to see her Sam and his Frodo staring at each other. She ducked back behind the wall and stayed just long enough to see Sam lean in and press his lips to Frodo’s, and then she turned and went back to bed. She could always send Sam out for the water when he came along.

He did come along, some twenty minutes later, whistling a little tune. “You’re in a good mood, Sam my lad,” Rosie teased.

He grew a little somber and perched on the end of the bed. “Well, Rosie, I am, although I’m a little nervous about telling you why.”

She chuckled. “Then shall I tell you?” He looked at her. “I went out for a glass of water, and I saw the two of you.” He nodded, his face apprehensive. She pressed her foot under the blanket to his legs and said, “Stop looking so scared, Samwise, I told you you’d face no problems from me. Tell me about it.”

He sighed ruefully and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Well, it was just as you saw. We was standing in the hallway and talking, and then the mood seemed to shift, and he was staring at me strangely, and I just leaned in and did it. I kissed him, and he kissed back, and then he sort of jerked back and said, ‘Sam, I’m so sorry.’

“‘Don’t be, unless you didn’t mean it,’ I said. ‘I’m not, for what it’s worth.’

“‘He looked at me a little sadly and said, ‘I know you better than to think you took your vows to Rosie so lightly.’

“‘No,’ said I, ‘you’re right, I took those very serious. But I also took Rosie very serious when she told me to kiss you if the moment ever came, and it came, and I did.’ He didn’t look like he believed me, so I told him to ask you tomorrow if he wanted to know for sure. He gave a little chuckle at that, like he couldn’t help himself, and pressed my hand and said good night. He didn’t let go for a few seconds, but then he went, and I took a few more moments in the hallway for myself and then came right to you.”

His tale done, he looked at her for approval, and she gave it with a firm nod. “I’ll set him right tomorrow, then, and you two can get to things properly.”

“I’m not sure what  _ things _ Frodo’d want to get to, if I’m being honest,” Sam said. “I got the sense from his kiss that he wasn’t looking for much more than that, in a physical way, if you see my point.”

“Well, all the same, he ought to take his kisses without guilt,” Rosie said. “Now up you get, Sam, and fetch me my glass of water, since you were in the way when I went myself.” He grinned and got up.

True enough, Frodo approached Rosie the next morning as she sat in the garden, working with her needle and thread. Her mother had dropped off a load of old dresses for Rosie to be pregnant in, and they all needed adjustments. He came bearing two mugs and passed one to Rosie, who took it gratefully and stretched her aching fingers around its warmth. “Morning, Mr. Frodo,” she said, watching him as he sat next to her.

“Good morning, Rosie.” He took a sip of his tea and they sat in silence for a few minutes. But Rosie was patient, and she outlasted him. “Sam suggested I speak with you,” he said finally, not meeting her eyes but looking out over the rows of plants.

Rosie nodded. “Yes, he told me you might come along.”

“Then he, he told you? What happened?”

“That he did,” Rosie said. “I can see how you might have wanted to keep it between the two of you, but Sam don’t keep secrets from me.” Frodo nodded, looking down into his mug. “You needn’t be so tense,” Rosie said, reaching out and resting a hand on his arm. “I know Sam told you, I’m more than alright with things. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Frodo let out a broken little chuckle. “I suppose I ought to say thank you, then. For being willing to share him.”

“Reckon as how it’s me that ought to say that to you.” He looked up at her at that. “You had him first, Mr. Frodo, even if you didn’t know it. He came to me with you in his heart, and I took him as he was with my eyes open. If you want him, and he wants you, and I know he does, then have him. There’s enough of our Sam to go around.”

Frodo smiled, just the smallest upturn of his lips at one end. “He does have the biggest heart I’ve ever known.”

“That he does,” Rosie agreed. “So ease your mind. You’ve done me no wrong, and I wish the two of you happiness.”

Frodo took her hand and kissed it. “Your heart is second in size only to Sam’s, I think,” he murmured.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rosie said. “I have my flaws, and I reckon I could get mighty jealous of his time, under the wrong circumstances. But these ain’t those, Mr. Frodo. These are the right circumstances.”

“Just so,” he said. “Well, I will take you at your word, and be glad of it. Thank you, Rosie Gamgee. Gardner, I mean.”

“You’re welcome, Frodo Baggins,” she replied. “Now, I thank you for the tea and the words, but if you’re going to be out here, you’re going to work. Go on back inside, or stay and pass me that pincushion.”

He stayed and played her assistant all the morning long, until the pile of dresses were done and Sam came to fetch the two of them for lunch, his gaze falling into warm fondness when he caught sight of them huddled together in the garden. “There you two are,” he said. “I’ve been looking all up and down the Row for you two.”

“We’ve been just here, settling matters,” Rosie said. “Be a good lad and take these back to our room, and we’ll wash up for lunch.” Sam obediently picked up the pile of dresses and bore them inside. Frodo helped Rosie to her feet, and together they followed.

Their little girl was born March 25th, and Sam came to her with Frodo’s name a few hours later. “Little Elanor,” Rosie said tiredly, tickling the babe’s foot. “I like it. It suits her. Wish I knew what one looked like, though.”

“I’ll draw you a picture,” Sam said, leaning in and putting his arms around the pair of them. “They’re beautiful, just like her. And just like her mama,” he added, pressing a kiss to Rosie’s temple.

“Hush, you flirt,” Rosie said, making him laugh. “I tell you, I’m about ready to fall asleep, so go and get Mr. Frodo in here to meet her sharpish, before I drop off.” Sam went, and came back with Frodo in tow, who looked at the three of them with wonder in his eyes. Rosie passed the baby off to Sam, who carefully laid her in Frodo’s arms. Frodo sat at the end of the bed, and Rosie could see his expression as he gazed at the little girl. “Hello, Elanor,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “You’re the luckiest hobbit in the whole world, because you have just the best mother and father there could be.”

“And the best uncle,” Sam said, laying a hand on Frodo’s shoulder. Frodo gazed up at him, smiling, but Rosie thought she saw something sad flit across his face, fast as a whisper before he looked back down at Elanor.

In the coming weeks, Rosie was glad to see her private suspicions come to glorious fruition; Sam grew into fatherhood like the  _ mallorn _ tree he’d planted in the Party Field, quick and strong and beautiful. He doted on Elanor, who adored him right back, and it warmed Rosie through to see the two of them together. Frodo seemed to share her sentiments, and he and Rosie shared many a fond look between them as Sam and Elanor played together.

“How are things between the two of you?” Rosie asked one night as she and Sam lay in bed, Elanor in a cot to one side. “He’s not resentful of losing your time to Elanor, is he?”

“No, not at all,” Sam said, shaking his head. “In fact, he seems almost afraid of stepping in. I have to drag him in to play with us sometimes, he’s that nervous about it.”

Rosie had her own private notions about that, but now was not the time to burden Sam with them. “But the two of you are going strong?”

“As strong as we can,” Sam said. “We spend time together, in the evenings, and there’s been some kisses.” He blushed scarlet, and Rosie laughed.

“What’s it like, then? Kissing Mr. Frodo?”

Sam rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Overwhelming,” he said, after a few moments’ thought. “He kisses me like, like I’m the Shire, if that makes sense. Like I’m what he came back for.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure,” Rosie murmured, laying her head on his shoulder.

“It isn’t, most of the time,” Sam said. “But I’ll say to you, privately, that sometimes I wish he’d kiss me like I’m just his Sam.”

Rosie hummed. “Do you ever kiss him? Start it yourself, I mean.”

“No,” Sam said, sounding startled. “I always figure we should go at his pace, as he’s the slower one. That’s the way it ought to go.”

“It ought to,” she agreed, “but there’s nothing wrong with your pace either, Sam. I think he’d be just as happy to have you start it, and then you can show him how you like it sometimes.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said drowsily. “But not tonight. Sleep well, my love.”

“Good night, Sam my lad.”

Two weeks later, Sam was washing up after breakfast while Rosie fed Elanor. Frodo ferried the plates from the table to the sink, and as he brought the last one over, Sam turned and gave him a quick kiss and a smile before bending back to his work. Rosie, one eye on the baby, turned the other to Frodo; he stood there shocked for a moment, and then a sort of painful happiness crept across his face. He turned and caught her look. She winked, and he blushed red and bustled from the room. “There, see, Elanor,” Rosie whispered to the baby. “Mama was right.”

It was a bare month later when Sam came to her and begged her leave. “Mr. Frodo wants to go somewhere, and he wants me with him,” he said. “If you and the baby can spare me for a fortnight. I think he means to go to Rivendell, and he wants me to see him off.”

For a bare second Rosie wanted to shake Sam for a fool, but she mastered herself and said, “I’ll bring Mama to stay and help with the baby. You take your fortnight, and see Mr. Frodo off properly.” Sam grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

There was finality written all over Frodo’s face when he and Sam took their leave of her and the baby, and she wondered that Sam couldn’t see it. Love was blinding him, she guessed. But she knew what was up, and she could see in Frodo’s face that he knew she knew. “Thank you for letting me borrow your husband,” he said. “I promise to have him home before you know it.”

_ And you too, _ she wanted to shout, but she didn’t. “Take good care of him,” was all she said, and waved as they departed until they vanished around the bend. “Well, Elanor, that’s that,” she said, “and that’s the end of your Uncle Frodo. But we’ll be here for your Dad when he gets back, and we’ll put him back together again.”

Two weeks on the dot, she was sitting in the drawing room and heard the front door open. Sam stumped heavily into the room, kissed the baby, and fell into a chair next to Rosie. “Well,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m back.”

Rosie reached out and took his hand, and he broke into loud sobs, burying his face in his arms. She got up and perched on the arm of his chair and wrapped herself around him, kissing the top of his head again and again while he wept. Elanor woke and burst into tears herself, and Sam hiccupped, standing and going to pick her up and rock her. He gulped in air, pressing his wet face to Elanor’s head, and Rosie went to them and pressed her forehead to his. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“I tried so hard,” Sam whispered. “I tried so hard to be enough for him.”

“You were,” Rosie said, grasping his arms. “You kept him here longer than anyone else could have. You were enough, my love, you were more than enough.”

“Not enough to keep him.” Fresh tears leaked from Sam’s eyes and he sucked in another breath.

“I can’t tell you what was going on in his head,” Rosie said, “and I can’t tell you for certain that it’ll get easier. But I think it will. He wanted nothing else than for you to be happy, Sam, and he wouldn’t have left if he thought you couldn’t be happy without him. He left on a boat?” Sam nodded, his eyes tightly shut. “Then I’ll make you a deal,” Rosie said. “You give me one life. One full lifetime, of children and love and happiness, and when the time comes, I’ll put you on a boat myself, and you’ll go and you’ll find him again, once there’s enough of you seeded into the Shire to make it whole again.”

Elanor had quieted by now, and Sam kissed her and put her back in her crib. He sank back into his chair, tugging Rosie into his lap. “Frodo said my time might come,” he said. “I was a Ring-Bearer too.”

“There, see?” Rosie kissed his forehead. “He needs a bit of time to himself, to find out what parts of him are still there, but he loves you, and I don’t think he could have left you if it was forever.”

“I don’t know if I can leave you,” Sam said into her shoulder, hugging her tight. “Not even to go find him again.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Rosie said. “For now, just stay close to me, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Okay,” Sam said. He let out a shaky gust of air. “Okay.”

Rosie laid her cheek atop his head. “Guess we know what we’re naming this next one, don’t we?”

Sam laughed wetly. “Oh, Rosie, really? Already?” His hand moved from her hip to her stomach, and she covered it with her own.

“Already,” she confirmed. “And this one’s going to be a boy.”

He was, little Frodo-lad, and he was followed by eleven others. Sam sturdied and healed, eventually, and threw himself wholeheartedly into being a father and husband and Mayor. Sometimes he looked away towards the West and grew somber, but for the most part, he was just as gay and full of life as he had ever been, and Rosie loved him.

Their children grew and had families of their own, and eventually there came a day when Rosie couldn’t hold her head up on her own anymore. Sam sat by her head and held her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said, and he looked at her.

“What for?”

“I promised to see you off myself.” She coughed, and Sam held water to her lips and helped her drink. “But I don’t think I can make it out West anymore.”

“That’s alright, Rosie my love,” Sam said, squeezing her hand. “You just stay right here and rest.”

“But you will go,” she said, as firmly as she could manage, “won’t you? You have to go.”

He shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. “I told you, I can’t leave you.”

“You won’t have to,” Rosie said kindly. “I’m the one leaving you, Sam. And I can’t go if I don’t know you’ll be taken care of after I’m gone. I need to know you’ll be okay.”

Sam picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’ll be okay, Rosie. As okay as I can be, after losing you.”

“Promise me you’ll go,” Rosie insisted. “Go and get on a boat and go find Frodo. I had you for a whole lifetime; he’ll need you now. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Sam whispered. “Rosie, I promise.”

“Good.” She mustered her last strength, squeezed his hand, then let her eyes fall shut and went to sleep.

(He went, in the end. He took a few months to bury his wife and see that all his family were settled, and then he gave the red book to Elanor and traveled to the Havens alone. What happened there no one ever knew, but he never came back, and to this day the Gardner family tell it that he went as far West as it is possible to go, until he came finally into the arms of his Frodo once again.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/thewalrus_said)!


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